


Burden

by TetrodotoxinB



Category: Hawaii Five-0 (2010)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Corporal Punishment, Alternate Universe - D/s, But all things are made better through Danny, Corporal Punishment, Dom!Danny, Found Family, Like an entire Samsonite warehouse of baggage, M/M, References to Sex Acts, Steve has a lot of baggage, sub!Steve
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-22
Updated: 2019-03-22
Packaged: 2019-11-28 02:17:26
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,143
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18202163
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TetrodotoxinB/pseuds/TetrodotoxinB
Summary: Steve steels himself, gathers the strap in his hand, and steps out into the bullpen.“Adam, with me,” he says brusquely.





	Burden

**Author's Note:**

> This is lightly edited and not beta read because all four of my kids have strep, one of them gave me pink eye, and I have no more fucks left in my soul.

Steve’s worked hard to get where he is. Getting a commission in the Navy is no small feat. Becoming a SEAL is a thousand times harder. Doing both would earn any dom a fair amount of respect. Steve did both as a sub and all it earned him was incredulity. 

 

_ It goes against your natural instincts.  _

 

_ You can’t lead. _

 

_ You’ll never be able to hand out punishments, never be able to keep your unit in line like a dom can. _

 

Steve heard it all and he proved all of them wrong. Too lenient, and he’s not cut out for it. Too much of a hardass, and he’s a try-hard. Still, he made himself the toughest guy on the team out of a group of professional badasses, and eventually, despite everyone’s misgivings, he’d ranked up. 

 

By the time he made Lieutenant Commander, Steve had a rep for being the toughest CO in DEVGRU. He learned to toe the line between cruel and exacting, meting out punishments consistently and without favoritism but never to excess like some COs seemed to think was necessary. At the time, it was all Steve knew. Growing up with a Vietnam vet for a dad and then going to ANA, the strap was part and parcel for dealing with infractions. The prevailing logic was that doms hated being treated like subs, and subs hated failing their predominantly dom COs. Steve never bought into that shit; it worked because it hurt.

 

Steve had never liked being on the receiving end, and when he ranked up, he had assumed that his dislike of being on the giving end was an extension of that. Once he started 5-0, however, he was forced to re-evaluate that particular belief. His attempt, and it was a singular attempt, to apply his previous disciplinary methods to 5-0 ended with Kono and Danny outright laughing at Steve, and Chin patiently explaining that just because 5-0 was paramilitary, it didn’t mean that they were going to subject themselves to that kind of treatment. After that, Steve developed a new system and that was the end of corporal punishment at 5-0. 

 

Except it wasn’t. 

 

The governor’s opinion on corporal punishment differed dramatically from that of Chin, Danny, Kono, and eventually, even Steve. Thankfully, it didn’t happen often, but sometimes, when the fuck ups were so monumental that they couldn’t be ignored, a decree came down from the governor. Steve did his best to skirt the majority of those orders and to shoulder the rest himself. It wasn’t a perfect solution by any means, but it was one he could live with.

 

Because as it turned out, years of treating his people like  _ ohana _ actually made them feel like  _ ohana _ . Or at least what Steve thinks family is supposed to be. The men in his units were different — brothers in arms, men he’d die for, people he trusted — but those relationships pale in comparison to the way Danny, Chin, and Kono actually make Steve family. They bring him into their homes and take him to family events, they confide things in Steve never could have admitted to in the Navy and Steve eventually learns to do the same. He learns what it means to admit being wrong when there’s no strap waiting on the other end of that admission, he learns to what it means to be human when the love is unconditional. 

 

So when it comes to the strap, Steve finds it a lot harder to do what’s expected because it threatens to take away what family he’s finally built in the space that his parents left behind. 

 

And maybe it’s not just that. Steve wouldn’t admit to anyone but Danny, and later Lou, but now that he doesn’t have to hit his subordinates, he realizes just how much he hated doing it. Maybe it really does go against his dynamic. Steve would rather be the one kneeling rather than standing. It pisses him off that his COs might have been right about him — that he really wasn’t made for it. He hates it more that maybe he shouldn’t have to feel weak just for being who he is. 

 

In any case, Denning eventually realized that Steve was dodging his responsibility in carrying out the directed punishments. After that, videos or impartial witnesses became mandatory. 

 

Steve had temporarily harbored the hope that maybe Mahoe would be different, but it seems that Denning briefed her on Steve’s aversion to corporal punishment on his way out of office. He sighs as he rereads the email. There doesn’t really seem to be any way around what she’s asking. 

 

He shoots off a quick text to Duke, asking for a few minutes of his time, and pulls the strap from his desk drawer. It didn’t take a genius to figure out that something was coming after Noriko had Jessie killed. Now that Adam is back from the mainland, that something is here. 

 

Steve steels himself, gathers the strap in his hand, and steps out into the bullpen.

 

“Adam, with me,” he says brusquely.

 

Lou, Danny, Tani, Junior, and Jerry all go still, staring wide-eyed at Steve’s hand. Adam hands the file he’s holding to Junior and follows, his head down.

 

“Steve, what are you doing?” Danny asks, his voice pitched up and anxious.

 

There’s no good answer, and the question is a stupid one anyway. Steve elects not to respond.

 

Once they’re in the elevator, Adam asks quietly, “Is this because of Jessie?”

 

“Yeah. The governor sent over an email this morning.” An email Steve’s been ignoring for the last three hours.

 

Adam nods, not even looking like he wants to argue. Steve knows what it’s like for guilt to eat at him for a fuck up in the field. He doesn’t envy the way Adam feels, but he can’t help the fleeting desire to take this one for the team, too, even if part of him thinks that maybe Adam earned this one. Old habits and all that.

 

They walk quietly through the basement halls of the Palace towards Jerry’s old office. It’s still 5-0 space so no one should be there. Hell, no one in their right mind would be in the basement unless they’re going to the evidence locker and that’s on the other side of the basement. Steve appreciates the option for privacy. In the Navy, you got your licks right then and there, even if it was in front of the platoon. Then after, you got to catch shit from your squadmates if you called out or cried. Here, Steve can offer the dignity that he never got or gave.

 

Steve sits on Jerry’s old desk while they wait and Adam strips off his shirt, opting to sit on a box of Jerry’s carefully saved newspapers. The five minutes it takes Duke to make his way down seem to stretch out into eternity.

 

“Sorry I’m late. Someone brought in a purse snatcher who wouldn’t calm down for his mugshot. Took six of us to subdue him.”

 

Steve shakes his head. “Don’t worry about it. No one got hurt did they?”

 

Duke shakes his head. “Nope. Though the lady reporting that her potted plants had been stolen looked a little traumatized.”

 

Adam chuckles, and Steve smiles as much as he can. 

 

“Anyway. Shall we?” Duke asks. 

 

Steve and Adam both nod, Adam dropping fluidly to his knees with his palms on his thighs. 

 

“State the nature of the infraction,” Duke orders.

 

“Adam Noshimuri, in the course of an investigation, failed to adequately provide for the safety and security of his confidential informant, Jessie Nomura, which resulted in her death,” Steve says, summarizing the Governor’s more colorful email. Adam doesn’t need all of the Governor’s anger laid out like that. His own self-blame more than covers it.

 

“And the punishment?” Duke asks.

 

“Thirty strikes.” Even as much as he hates this, Steve can’t justify any less. Someone died. Thirty is a paltry punishment for a fuck up that big.

 

“The punishment may be carried out.”

 

Steve covers the base of Adam’s neck with his hand to protect the nerves there from an errant strike and nods to Adam, giving him a chance to brace himself. Then, he swings. Any hesitation on Steve’s part would only heighten Adam’s anxiety — god only knows that it was common practice in the military to psych out anyone about to get the strap and fuck if he’s putting Adam through that right now. Fuck if he’s putting  _ himself _ through that.

 

As punishments go, it’s a relatively quick one. Steve doesn’t drag it out, doling the licks out at a steady pace. By the end Adam is breathing heavy and doing his best to stifle his cries. For the most part he fails. Steve feels sick to his stomach.

 

He and Duke each offer Adam a hand up once he’s had a chance to catch his breath and briskly wipe away the tears that he rolled down his cheeks. Duke promises to send his formal report to Steve and the Governor and leaves. 

 

Adam sits on the box of newspaper clippings, and no longer trying to save face in front of Duke, puts his head in his hands and cries. Steve knows how this feels, how much it sucks. Freddie died saving Steve, and Steve wasn’t fast enough, good enough, smart enough to get them both out alive. The guilt has never become easier to bear.

 

He considers telling Adam that it’s not his fault because largely it’s not — the situation with Jessie was different from what happened with Freddie. But Steve also knows that he never believed anyone who told him that about what happened to Freddie. In light of that, Steve keeps his mouth shut. Eventually, Adam’s breathing evens out and he wipes his face again. 

 

“Let me help,” Steve says holding up Adam’s shirt.

 

Shakily, Adam manages to get to his feet. Steve meets him halfway, and Adam turns, giving Steve his back. It’s deep red from shoulders to mid-back, mottled with purple blotches where the hits had overlapped. Steve knows that by the end of the day it’ll all be purple, verging on black. 

 

Carefully, Adam slips one arm and then the next into the shirt sleeves and shrugs the back of the shirt up with a quiet hiss. Steve waits while Adam works the buttons and gets himself presentable, makes it look like he wasn’t just beaten to tears by someone who’s supposed to be  _ ohana _ .

 

When the elevator door dings open, all heads swivel in unison. Steve can tell that Adam won’t meet their eyes, isn’t going to answer their questions. 

 

“You alright? McGarrett didn’t bust you up too bad, did he?” Lou asks.

 

Adam shakes his head, and Steve heads off towards his office to put the strap back in his desk. 

 

“Nah. Be fine in a week,” Adam says. His voice is rough. Steve stomach clenches. It’ll be more like two, but Adam is saving face for both of them. It’s more than Steve thinks he deserves.

 

When Steve rejoins the team at the table, everyone except Junior, who knows the score after being in the SEALs, gives him little side-long glances, trying to gauge what’s going on and, more likely, who Steve really is. Tani hasn’t ever been around for something like this, and she looks a little unsettled, maybe even scared like she could end up in Adam’s place one day. Steve doesn’t want to imagine that, though he knows it’s well within the realm of possibility.

 

Everyone else in the room can count on one hand the number of times they’ve seen Steve get the strap out of his desk. It’s a side of him they don’t really know and, aside from Junior, it’s something they probably try to pretend doesn’t exist. Steve doesn’t blame them. The civilian world has largely done away with corporal punishment and he knows it’s a shock.

 

But out of all of them, the only person who sees how hard this really is is Danny. He rests his palm on the small of Steve’s back and leaves it there, like it’s nothing to do that in public, at work, between men. But it helps. The feeling of his skin being a size too small begins to fade at Danny’s touch and by the end of the briefing, the nausea has abated enough for him to eat lunch.

 

*****

 

Danny keys into Steve’s house and calls out, “I’m here.”

 

He didn’t tell Steve he was coming over but after a day like today, he should know to expect it. There’s no reply though, and Danny wonders if Steve is out for a run or a swim. 

 

Danny toes off his shoes and heads for the kitchen, where he pilfers a Longboard from the fridge. There’s no one on the lanai, but Danny can see the silhouette of Steve out in one of the Adirondacks. 

 

“Hey,” Danny calls as he gets closer. Creeping up on SEALs who are a little fucked in the head probably wouldn’t bode well for his long-term health and well-being.

 

“Hey,” Steve grinds out. He sounds like shit.

 

Danny flops gracelessly into the chair next to Steve. “How many you had?”

 

“Just this one.”

 

Danny looks at the bottle. It’s more than half full. Then, he looks at Steve. He looks worn down, which isn’t new, but his body language is the most telling. His keeps readjusting in small ways — his shoulders pulling back towards his spine, the way Danny does with sounds like nails on a chalkboard or someone cutting styrofoam — and his hands make little aborted motions like he wants to rub his skin. If there’s one thing Danny knows, it’s anxiety and Steve is oozing it.

 

“Put your beer in the fridge. Meet me upstairs,” Danny orders. Steve straightens abruptly in his chair, though his fingers continue to twitch.

 

Danny gets up and turns to leave without checking to see if Steve is following. He will. He always does.

 

There’s a strap in Steve’s room, top dresser drawer at the back behind Steve’s thicker cold-weather socks that he never uses now that he’s in Hawaii. Danny gets it out and checks it for imperfections, as though somehow it would have changed since Danny last took it out. Then, he sits on the bed and waits. 

 

A minute later, the riser on the third stair from the bottom squeaks, and a few seconds later Steve comes in. 

 

“If you want this, shirt off. Kneel.”

 

Steve unbuttons his shirt, tossing it carelessly by the foot of the bed. Folding his clothes has never been something that mattered to Danny as a show of respect, and given the periodic mess that is his apartment, he’d be a hypocrite to ask it of Steve. And then, in a series of popping joints, Steve kneels.

 

“I know you want this because you think what you did to Adam was unfair.”

 

“Danny, if you don’t want to, it’s fine-”

 

“Shut up for a second, will you? I’m not punishing you for doing your job. Your boss told you to do it. You did it. Okay? I’m only gonna do this because I know that you’re too fucking stubborn to let me take you out of your head any other way. Think of it as a reward-” Danny can’t imagine this being a reward, but hey, Steve needs to hear it and that’s what lying is for “-for doing a really hard part of your job. Let me take care of you, okay?”

 

Steve nods, never taking his eyes off the floor. “Yes, sir. Thank you.”

 

Danny reaches down and puts his hand over the back of Steve’s neck, squeezing softly. Steve’s tension seems to unspool almost instantly, and honestly Danny would rather put the damn strap back in the drawer if he could just bring Steve down like this. Danny knows better, though.

 

“You get ten. No more. If you argue, you’ll get none.”

 

Steve nods under Danny’s hand. 

 

“Good boy,” Danny praises, his thumb rubbing gentle circles in the side of Steve’s neck. “Here we go, babe. Brace yourself.”

 

Danny can’t bring himself to put his full strength into the swings — pain has never been something he enjoyed with any of his subs — but it’s unnecessary because by ten, Steve is perfectly still. The antsy twitching is all but gone. Danny tosses the strap over towards the dresser but not enough of it lands on the top to stay, and it slithers to the floor in a heap.

 

“You’re okay, babe. You did so good. You’re so strong for me,” Danny praises, gently tugging Steve to his feet and over to the bed. 

 

They collapse onto the mattress in a jumble of limbs, and Danny pulls Steve over him, running his hands over every available inch of exposed skin, including the reddened expanse of his shoulders and upper back. Steve buries his face in the crook of Danny’s neck, his fingers clutching at the fabric of Danny’s shirt. Danny can feel the wetness against his neck and slides the fingers of his right hand into Steve’s stupidly short hair.

 

“I’ve got you. You’re okay. You’re good. We’re good,” he promises. 

 

Like everything else Steve does, his crying is tightly controlled. Only his tears and the occasional gasp let Danny know how torn up Steve is. But Danny calls it a victory. For the longest time, Steve wouldn’t even let Danny hold him after a scene, much less let Danny see him cry. Danny hates whoever trained him to be like that.

 

As much as he might wish it, Danny knows that Steve won’t go to sleep like this. Soon they’ll get up and Steve will finish his beer with Danny. Then Danny will lie down in Steve’s bed while Steve goes for a late night run to burn off the rest of his anxieties before finally slipping into bed in the small hours of the morning. 

 

He also knows that when he wakes in the morning it will be to a cheerful and over-enthusiastic SEAL, hell-bent on sucking Danny’s brains out through his dick as thanks that Steve doesn’t know any other way to say. They’ll take a shower, Danny will get Steve off with his hand, and Steve will bitch about how long their shower is taking and how much water they’re wasting. And then it’ll be back to the grind until the next time that something triggers Steve and Danny has to beat him in hopes of quieting the dark shit in Steve’s head. 

 

One day, Danny hopes, they’ll be able to scene together for fun rather than necessity. May even in way that doesn’t mean Danny has to hurt Steve in order to help him. It’s a long-term goal, but one that Danny holds onto with all his heart.


End file.
